


Lies We Tell

by somerandom



Category: Warchild Series - Karin Lowachee
Genre: M/M, Past Sexual Abuse, Short One Shot, Unresolved Sexual Tension, this is a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-16 13:25:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3489881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somerandom/pseuds/somerandom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorr waits for an opportunity to tell Jos how he really feels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lies We Tell

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't read the books in about a year and a half so there's probably many, _many_ things factually and stylistically wrong with what follows. It is acknowledged! I wrote this because I ship these two, and something's better than nothing.

Jos had never thought he’d live long enough to miss Dorr’s creepy, smirking stares. But he has. And he does.

After Jos’s duplicitousness was revealed to everyone on board Macedon it’s been nothing but glares: cold, furious, murderous glares. Teeth clenched whenever Jos passes the Corporeal in a corridor. Fingers brushing the pulse gun strapped to Dorr’s hip whenever Jos happens to shuffle past him in the mess.

At first Jos had ignored it all, convinced Dorr’s new attitude would recede into disinterest once Dorr cottoned on to the fact he wasn’t going to get the blubbering, groveling apology he was clearly pushing for. It had even been vaguely satisfying for Jos watching Dorr shit himself about it: having to endure a known traitor while being unable to do anything other than glare and tut and spit; he’d always been too smug for his own good, believed himself to be more important than he was, smarter than he was, and Jos had shown him he was neither. There was a small triumph in that.

But it was becoming…  _unsettling_. The glares were increasing in duration and frequency until Jos found himself shadowed everywhere he went, unable even to take a piss without feeling the Corporeal's impotent rage burn holes clean through his back.

“Whatever it is you want to say,” Jos said quietly, evenly, one evening, without turning around, “then just say it already. This is getting really old.” All around them it was too quiet; most were setting up in the barracks now to get some sleep and Jos realized, early, that he’d been set up. Dorr had intended on getting him alone tonight. He’d probably been plotting this for weeks.

There was silence a while until he heard the Corporeal grunt.

“Bet you’re real proud of yourself, huh? Foolin’ everyone with that sweet act you put on. Still foolin’ everyone, I'm guessin’.” Jos heard him spit on the floor and winced. He could see Dorr now, without needing to turn around and face him: long pale hair tied back messily and hanging over one shoulder; lip curled into a snarl; fingers twitching toward his gun. Looking every bit the avenging angel and sounding like nothing but rough trash. 

Jos curled his fingers into a fist, his muscles tensing as his pulse accelerated. He was gearing up for a fight. He knew Dorr better than the man liked. Knew that he was tired of copping it like this; tired of enduring the traitor while being helpless to exact his revenge; tired of following the Captain's orders to just  _let it be_. That's why they were alone right now. Dorr had set it up this way, so that he'd have the ground later to say Jos had attacked  _him_ , Jos had set  _him_  up; Dorr had just been defending himself is all. Defending himself from the kid.

Jos knew there weren't many left who'd question that version of events.

"Fuck you," Jos muttered under his breath. 

"Tsk. Filthy words outta that pretty mouth." He was close now, so close Jos could feel Dorr's breath against his neck. "Really think you oughta shut it right about now, though. Nobody 'round to hear you squeal." There was a hint of that old smirk again; Jos could hear it.

"Get away from me or I'll put you down -- I swear I will." Jos hoped he sounded less desperate than he felt, though part of him knew Dorr must have sensed his weakness, his fear, or he wouldn’t sound so goddamned _comfortable_.

Jos pushed it aside and tried to focus. He could take Dorr if he just  _focused_ ; if he could be the opposite of Dorr right now, without making stupid decisions through a lens of fear and anger. 

He tried reasoning what Dorr might do next -- smash his face into the wall; go for Jos's weapons, perhaps; try to render him helpless. Reflexively, Jos went for his gun and knew he'd been right when Dorr got there first, when Jos felt not cold steel beneath his palm but Dorr's warm skin instead. 

" _No_." Words spoken directly into Jos's ear, sending shivers along his spine. It was intended to confuse him, frighten him, and Jos wondered then what Dorr knew. If he was doing it because of what he'd heard about Jos and Falcone -- to throw him off, cloud his judgment, make him weak and afraid. Ashamed of what he’d let happen all those years ago. What he’d let happen again in that cell just a few weeks before.

Jos spun around to face him a few seconds too late. Dorr's forearm collided with his throat, knocking the air out of him, smacking his skull back against the bulkhead and pinning him there.

He glared at Jos again now, eyes narrowed and jaw set. "You know," he started, "I always liked you, Musey."

"Really? Could have fooled me," Jos wheezed, pushing against Dorr's hard body, kicking at the man’s shins, pinching wherever he could find purchase. If it hurt, Dorr had found a way not to show it. 

“But you’re nothin’, you know that? Not even worth the time it’d cost me in the brig. Just wanted you to know that.” Abruptly, he relaxed his forearm and Jos sucked in a breath, doubling over and coughing until he regained the strength to stand up and shove Dorr away from him as hard as he could.

Jos glared, and Dorr smirked, unmoved. Smug again, knowing he’d won – that Jos didn’t have the ground to refute a word he’d said. He'd said his piece, and there was nothing Jos could do about it. He could make an attempt to knock the Corporeal on his ass, but Jos knew it wouldn't achieve much but confirm what everyone around him was already thinking but didn't have the guts to say. 

"Walk away, Musey," Dorr advised, like he'd read it on Jos's mind.

Jos pushed himself away from the wall, unable to resist knocking Dorr hard on the shoulder as he passed him. The sound of Dorr's laughter followed him back to his bunk.

 


End file.
